


Cornflowers

by alisansinister (orphan_account)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Gen, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28682991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/alisansinister
Summary: After the war.After the explosions.After the fire.Why would anyone return to what it once was, unless they weren't there in the first place?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Cornflowers

During the colder months, the outside world would cast itself in a shade of blue. The pale colour would resemble the ice, the frigid temperatures as they continued to drop further and further. 

The freezing rain didn't help either, it seemed to pour for days and days on end, as if mourning the loss of a precious piece of history, never to return. 

And still, soft padded steps would trudge through the wet muck that had become of the earth beneath your feet. The rain helped a little with rinsing the caked dirt on your boots, but still the difficulty remained of you sliding about. 

With the woolen cape hanging heavy on your shoulders, the attached hood now doing little to nothing to cover your head from the downpour, your eyes would blink away tiny droplets of water. At first, you thought you were deceived, eating nothing but bread and filtered water could do that. A sigh of relief would tear from your shivering lungs as you saw wooden fences, and the outline of small buildings--- perhaps a home?

Careful not to tread on the slick ground, you would hurriedly move quicker until the town came into view. The fierce scent of gunpowder and rubble would mix with the smell of rain, bringing tension between your brows as they furrowed together. Your footsteps would soon quieten as you neared closer to the mysterious town, eyes widening as you soon realized what had happened. 

Stone carved by gunpowder, ore and granite now turned to dust. The sight, was one to behold. Tunnels were deep beneath the surface, as if something tunneled through it in search of a lost treasure. A dark grid up above, specks of purple twinkling from it. It was all destroyed. The residue suggested it was recent, yet no one was around to scour the land. No one to return home, to gather, to move on to the next step in their life-

If there was anyone left. 

Carefully, you would step yourself along the misconstrued path, eventually staring at the deep cave that had to have been man made. Rubble, stones, and coal would probably coat your lungs if you inhaled too much of it, but it was better that staying out in the cold. 

There had to be some sort of problem with this town for it to end up like this. Wither's can cause this much damage, but only if there were multiple. Maybe a mishap with some explosives? Either way, you were soon to reconsider diving deep into this mysterious manhole.

That was, until you lost your footing. 

One little slip, and soon you were tumbling down into the near depths of it, shards of stone tearing into your sides, poking and prodding your skin until it felt raw to the touch. The last straw, was the stars you began to see. Staring up, you could see the outside world, the rain still steadily falling.

"No, get up...

You fucking idiot-- get up!"

Your thoughts ached, the back of your head feeling warm as your eyes began to squint, and shook fall shut when you became a victim of the unconscious.

\------------------------------------

When you awoke again, your eyes were practically burning. The dust that resided was definitely going to be a bitch to work around, but at least you were conscious. Blinking away the burning sensation, you took the time to look around. 

Your bag was open to let most of its contents spill out. Underneath the lip of the bag, a notebook would reside, as well as a few small loaves of bread. 

Soft grunts would echo as you outstretched a worn arm, swearing in a language unrecognizable to anyone else. Written, it would look like chicken scratch.

After pulling your damaged body to your bag, your fingers would fumble to drag a small vile filled with warm liquid out of the side pocket. A hiss would slip through your teeth as you found the top half was to be cracked. 

"Of course, half a vile left. Stupid fucking bad, shitty padding..."

Downing the liquid, the warm hum of the potions effect would soon take over. Your breath would catch in your throat as your skin began to reject the sharp stones stuck in your side, spitting them out of your skin in distaste. 

Digging more so through your bag, you would rediscover a small, folded paper. You knew exactly what it was, a fuzzy memory floating back into your head. 

The photo was of your late mother and you. You couldn't have been more than a few years old as she cradled you in her arms, a poorly made paper crown nestled in her hair, as an expertly made one sat atop your head. The paper was old and worn, yet that didn't fade the lettering that splayed on the back. 

"Cornflowers were always your favourite, yet you never would accept them if they didn't have enough petals. To you, it was uneven, and made the flower look ugly,"

You could almost hear her laughter as the note continued,

"I picked some from the field we took this in. So many of them had only a few petals, but I knew I had to get some for you. 

With all my love,  
Momma."

The stinging in your eyes would melt away as tears would begin to bubble. Somewhere in your notebook, you had pressed one of the flowers she sent, and kept it to yourself whenever you needed her. 

Shaking the warm thought out of your head, you would begin to put your things back into your bag, but not before you heard the clacking of rocks falling down to the floor. 

Your body went rigid, afraid to look around for the source of the sound. It probably was just the rubble clamoring about, nothing to worry for. A sudden wave of heaviness would knock you over, splaying you out on your back. The crunch of glass would silence beneath you as you struggled to get up. 

Slowness, fantastic. 

Heavy boots would pin down your arms, making you groan from your skin being pressed into the sharp rocks from before. As one does, you began to struggle and writhe about, their voices almost a blur in your head,

"Why are you here?! Answer me!?"

"Don't shout, the entrance could cave in--!"

"You're telling me /that's/ what you're worried about?!"

Now cracking open your eyes, two boys would have their weight pressed onto your arms. One sported an axe, whilst the other had a crossbow pointed to your head. 

Before you had the chance to shout, or explain, another voice would sound out. The three of you would look to where it came from, only to spot a man in a yellow jumper holding open your book.

The flower.

"Tubbo, Tommy-- It's blue! Look!"


End file.
